Black dog in the sunshine and the return of Alecto

Sorry folks, but there are some serious growls and miseries ahead. You may want to go read about someone else who's feeling more cheery and motivational, but I want to get this stuff out of my system in the hope that it'll take the hint and go away.

I know there's a whole lot going on in the world which should me feel grateful to be who I am, and where I am. I feel for those caught up in events, but I'm living in my skin and this ramble is kind of personal to me.

Well, the only polite thing I can think of to say about my life at the moment is... rude words, fuss and bother. It just shouldn't be like this. Now that the sun has shown her face and there are blossoms and flowers about, and there is finally a bit of spring to be seen, my moods should be shifting towards the positive, right?

Er, wrong...

In fact, it seems quite the opposite. After a pleasant weekend with lovely hubby, pleasing ourselves and doing LOADS of walking around London on Saturday (albeit mostly in the peeing rain), and successfully managing to remain low-carb in the face of a sea of cafes and restaurants apparently wanting to stuff us and the rest of humanity with bread and pasta, I should be on a high, shouldn't I.

But, for some reason, instead of the high, the fat lass is struggling with two problems. The first is the return of my very own version of Alecto (go on, look her up in Greek mythology)... er, irritability, that is, she says, putting it very mildly indeed! The other thing is an unexpected 'black dog' period.

The former has been building for a couple of weeks now, and hit a bit of a peak earlier in the week when I actually lost my temper with a colleague. I can't remember the last time I lost control at work, but I'm embarrassed to say I ended up doing my screaming harridan act.

This was triggered when, in mid-discussion (as I was trying to engage quietly, reasonably and calmly to resolve a problem), he first harrangued me and then, when that wasn't getting him anywhere, turned his back and stalked away from me, cutting me off completely. I'm afraid to admit that this sparked off an instant 'light the blue touch-paper and stand well back' reaction!

Thankfully, it was pretty much only the two of us around at the time, but I'm not proud of myself at all. I should have been more adult and professional, even if he wasn't being very reasonable. I'm actually rather worried that I didn't/couldn't stay calm, and also that it took a long while for me to get over it. Oh well, it's over and done, and I must move on and resolve to NOT resort to a similar reaction again.

The blues part of the duo kicked off on Sunday. There've been hints of it popping up in the last few weeks, but it all came to a head with a particularly teary bout on Sunday morning. At first, I put it down to tiredness from our looong day out and from a lot of disturbed nights with the night sweats... again, but there seems to be more to it than that. I'm just 'down' in a rather nebulous and unspecified way, and I don't like it!

Both aspects of this 'may' be to do with switching to these darned tablets. It certainly seems quite a coincidence that they and my mood changes started about the same time. I'll talk to my GP about this later and see what she thinks.

If it isn't the tablets, and I'm blaming them unfairly, what else could be causing it? Well, it could be that I'm a tad under the weather (I have been running on 'hot' over the last few days, in the daytime as well as at night). It may be an overspill from work stuff and the various tensions there. It may be worries about my Mum and her deteriorating condition: she's now skimming her mid-nineties, just had another birthday, and isn't doing all that well to be honest. It may merely have been far too long a winter... or it could be a combination of any or all of these. I just don't know. But I do know that I'm feeling sorry for myself, and I don't care for this at all.

On a marginally more positive front, I'm forcing my sorry self to stay active. Rowing, the abs work and walking continue, and I'm even making a little progress with increasing what I do. I do feel slightly 'stronger', although I can't say I can see too much difference to my body tone as yet, but time should tell, eh?

I'm avoiding the siren call of chocolate (e.g. cling-film wrapped a piece of 'death by chocolate' birthday cake I was presented with, and gave it to another colleague for his little girls) and other comfort foods. I'm making myself comply with and adhere to the low-carb dietary guidelines and sticking with the daily carb limits which I know I'm better for. However, I have to admit that I am finding things really rather hard at the moment.

My weight fluctuations aren't helping to keep me in a positive frame of mind either. Best description of my relationship with the scales would be 'variable' at the moment. The needle is up and down like a lady of the night's undergarments, and my mood (sadly) pretty much follows it.

On Monday morning (even after all that walking at the weekend) it was a kilo higher once again - grrr! Hmmm, not a great start to the week. I was pleased to say it dropped back a bit again... briefly, but this morning saw it back up again. For want of the language I'd really like to use here, I'll just say bottoms, bellies and other wobbly bits!

I know, it isn't a complete disaster but, despite reining in hard and being extra careful with what I'm eating, I'm four or so pounds up from where I 'want' to be. As you'd imagine,I'm not feeling exactly 'happy' with this. In fact, I feel distinctly 'old' and  'stout' and 'matronly' at the moment, nothing at all like the 'lithe' and 'energised' woman I'd wish to be.

Anyway, that has at least got it all off my chest. I guess I just need to grit my teeth, give myself a smart kick in the pants and get on with it. This feeling isn't permanent. It will pass. I just hope it passes soon.

Onwards, ever...